It’s nearing 9pm in the evening and Kyungsoo’s made absolutely no progress.

He’s entranced, captivated, completely spellbound by Jongin’s very presence that he just keeps postponing the reveal hours into the night.  Thoughts of confessing are continuously pushed back into the recedes of his mind, hammered down with all sorts of shallow excuses and reasons as he chooses to pour his attention over matters that are less nerve wrecking and much easier to think about, like how soft Jongin’s hands are, or how tall and lean he’s become, or how Jongin is this, and how Jongin is that.

Kyungsoo would constantly fish for a reason to delay the night further, disregarding the alarming state of panic he feels with every glance he takes at the clock. The clock that only seems to remind him that soon Jongin will have to leave, soon he’ll have to go and once he does he’ll be walking out that door fooled into believing that Kyungsoo is just as he appears, normal.

Now, as a result of a night filled with senseless activities that are actually just futile attempts to stall his dreaded moment, the baker sits on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by half-empty take out boxes from McDonalds as he watches Jongin shoo his pups away from the deck of cards that are neatly spread out in front of them. The taller is chewing something hastily, trying to figure out which among the flipped over cards is Kyungsoo’s, face all scrunched up in mock concentration.

He pops another fry into his mouth before reaching out for the middle piece and showing it around for the invisible crowd to see. “Is this your card, kind sir?” he says in a low baritone, a poor imitation of how he remembers those old grungy looking magicians who used to appear on TV.

Kyungsoo winces, eyeing the card skeptically. He didn’t think it was possible for Jongin to be bad at anything until the tanned boy offered to try out some magic tricks. Turns out its true what they say, nobody’s perfect.

“You’re terrible at this.” He mutters with a disapproving shake of his head. Bending forward to pick out the right card he flips over an ace of hearts, a pretty far fetch from the jack of clovers currently resting in Jongin’s hand. 

“, I knew it was that one.” The tanned boy complains with an exasperated sigh, dropping his card back to the pile in resignation.

“Where did you say you learned these tricks again?”

“When I was younger, a lot lot younger” Joingin’s voice is soft, deep and wonderful in the otherwise undisturbed silence of Kyungsoo’s room “my noonas always watched this stupid magic show on TV, it aired at the same time slot of pororo so I would always make a fuss, throw this huge tantrum before waiting grumpily for the remote control.”

The image of a little Jongin seated on the far end of a couch with crossed arms and furrowed brows amuses Kyungsoo enough to elicit a bubble of laughter. The other merely clucks his tongue at him, fumbling to arrange the scattered cards back into a proper deck.

As went their night.

The hours that have gone by have been wonderfully peaceful, much to Kyungsoo’s discomfort. The more time he spends pleasantly enjoying Jongin’s company, the weaker his resolve to tell the truth gets. He finds himself pleading for the clock to stop ticking, for it to rewind and allow him the chance to repeat the entire night over and over again, if only to experience the simple joys of being with his lover several times over.

Jongin on the other hand, completely unaware of the surprises in store for him, feels no worries. He doesn’t notice how much of the night has gone by, nor how much of it they have left. In his mind he’s already begun planning the next times and the tomorrows, sorting out his bucket list of things he would like to do with the smaller boy. This night merely the beginning of many similar ones to come, he would like to think.

The taller empties a box of french-fries into his mouth before taking as much trash as he can and stuffing them back into the take out paper bags. Kyungsoo offers to help clean up, though he’s politely rejected with a smile and a wave of hand, “No no it’s okay,” Jongin says before getting on his feet and stepping out of the room briefly to dispose of the bag. The smaller watches him disappear out into the hallway before idly moving to crawl up onto his bed and flop over, laying on his back with his eyes set on the plain ceiling above as he figures out what the he’s supposed to do now.

“The longer you take the harder it might be for him to accept.” He whispers to no one in particular, Krystal’s advice fresh in his mind as he lets out his nth sigh that night.

It takes a dip in the bed and a sudden feeling of warmth to his left for him to open his eyes, despite never even remember having closed them. Jongin is back, his beanie chucked away somewhere on the floor, showing off a crown of unruly brown locks that he runs his calloused hands through before crossing his arms behind his head. Kyungsoo watches the way his eyes flutter closed and the way a small, contented smile settles on his plump lips. He shifts his gaze to the ceiling, folding his hands over his stomach, wishing he could feel the same kind of comfort.

“So where’s your brother?” Jongin pipes in after a long extended minute of silence.

The baker bites the inside of his cheek at the familiar question, something he asks himself on a daily basis “He’s…I don’t know… Somewhere other than here, I suppose.”  

A pause.

“Are you two still fighting?” The taller turns his head sideways, fringe falling over his eyes beautifully.  

“I wouldn’t say we are…But I wouldn’t say we aren’t.”

“I’m still wondering why you two have been acting strange. It’s all since that night we-we…“ Jongin halts, memories of dried tears and intimate kisses making heat rise to both of their cheeks. He returns his gaze up to the ceiling, “You’ve just been acting strange around him” he continues, soft and mumbled, hoping Kyungsoo doesn’t notice the way he stutters. 

It’s not a question, technically, but Kyungsoo knows it’s a start.

What happened? Jongin is going to ask. The baker braces himself, feeling his heart pace quicken as the silence suddenly feels more eerie than comforting. It’s the question that tells him leisure time is over, a queue to begin the slow unfolding of his story, from tao, to seungsoo, to himself. Taking a deep breath he readies himself, prepares for the worst.

“You should see my bedroom ceiling, it’s full of little glow in the dark stars.”

What?

The unexpected change of subject has Kyungsoo turning his head slowly to face the other.

Where were the whys? The hows? The whens?

Only some of the things he wonders as he watches Jongin silently. Much to his surprise, the taller scotches closer, their shoulders and sides flush against each other. Kyungsoo holds his gaze but Jongin keeps his averted, as though his fingers weren’t even boldly reaching out to fit perfectly in the smaller boy’s hands.

It remains like this, and part of Kyungsoo wants to scream. He wants to shake his lover back to his own senses. Ask me the god damn question and get this over with! He wants to say, shouting it over and over in his own mind. But the beating of his heart is louder in his ears, ruling out the sound of his own voice.  

Part of him wants to squeeze Jongin’s hand back, to curl up into a ball beside him and lay his ear against his chest listening if their heart beats are in sync and hoping to find courage in it.

He doesn’t do any of those, simply relishing in the feeling of the other’s thumb rubbing lightly over the back of his hand. 

“Do they look nice?” he close to whispers, afraid that his voice would shatter the beauty of the silence.

“Mhm. Krystal thinks I stuck them up there to make wishes. Well, I guess I did, in a way? But my initial intention was a cheesy attempt to impress someone.”

“Impress who?”

“It’s silly, but back in elementary I had this crush over this girl from another class. Her name was Naeun. Long brown hair, fair skin, rosy cheeks and all…It took a while for me to man up and talk to her. But surprisingly it took a much lesser while before we started dating…Krys was furious, she did not like her.”

“I think we’ve both established why...”

The tanned boy clears his throat, choosing not to comment on it any further “Worst relationship ever, now that I think about it. She just went on and on about wanting this picture perfect relationship where I should bring her home everyday, text her, call her, see her between classes,  pay for every single date, met her parents etc. . Etc. Miss one of those and she’d talk about me all day with her little huddle of cheerleaders.”

Kyungsoo juts out his lower lip in a pout, who on earth would even have the heart to treat someone as precious as Jongin like that?

“One day I asked Krys to help me set up the stars, before inviting Naeun over to my place. Took her up to my room, closed the door, closed the lights, held her hands and kissed her.” For some reason, Jongin laughs at the memory “my first kiss, and supposedly hers too. When she pulled back she didn’t look too pleased.  So I said ‘Hey, just like you wanted, a first kiss under the stars, right?’ then I pointed up to where my stars glowed. To me they looked pretty damn awesome.”

The smaller tries to picture it, teenage Jongin’s silhouette along with a pretty girl’s figure, lips pressed together while standing in a dark room illuminated by nothing but the rays of the moonlight seeping through a window as well as the shimmer of little glowing figures above. “What did she do?” He asks, shaking his head when he imagines the woman’s figure to be Krystal’s.

“Slapped me, broke up with me, and called me a cheapskate” the tanned boy laughs and when Kyungsoo looks at him in disbelief, he only laughs louder.

“ right? But it didn’t hurt.” He waves his hand in the air in dismissal “Probably because it felt like I was relieved from some sort of heavy duty. She was so high maintenance, pleasing her was so hard.”

I’m glad she broke up with you, I’m glad you’re here right now.

Kyungsoo speaks none of his thoughts and instead just nods his head in understanding, glad to have known a bit more about Jongin and his past. So far, it’s been very much unlike his, full of people, full of fun, full of experience, and mostly full of love. So full in contrast to Kyungsoo’s hollow days.

He doesn’t notice how long it’s been silent until Jongin speaks up again.

“Kyungsoo,”

A shudder runs down the baker’s spine at the mention of his name.

Jongin feels so close.

Suddenly he’s feeling hyperaware of the other’s presence, taking in every move and every breath he takes. He doesn’t dare meet Jongin’s gaze, fearing whatever expression he is to meet. He doesn’t see the way the tanned boy’s eyes are suddenly glazed, how his adam’s apple bobs and how his breath is a bit ragged. There’s heavy tension that falls between them, although Kyungsoo notes how it’s a different kind of tension, one that’s not built on fear nor anxiety, but something else.

“Yeah?” He responds, and it comes out a bit too breathy.

“I wish you were my first kiss…If you were my first kiss… glowing stars be damned. , Kyungsoo I’d have taken you up to the highest mountain where the brightest stars can be seen.”

The smaller allows their eyes to meet and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

 “I wouldn’t have minded your glowing stars.”

He wouldn’t have. Jongin could have kissed him in a graveyard and it would still be magical. Only because it’s Jongin.

This is the message he tries to convey as he feels his own eyelids fall, staring into the tanned males’ drowsy eyes and his crooked nose and his lips that are opening to utter some words he nearly misses to catch.

“Let’s play a game.” the other says,

and Kyungsoo has to blink because in the next few seconds Jongin moves too quick.

After holding Kyungsoo’s gaze for what felt like hours Jongin finally snaps out of it and sits up, practically bouncing off the bed and getting on his feet. He walks a few steps away before stopping, hands on his hips, head thrown back, and shoulders squared. For a minute there’s no movement, he just keeps his stance as is, and takes steady breaths to slow down the rapid pounding in his chest.

Though the sight he turns around to only makes this harder for him to do, with Kyungsoo sitting on the edge of his bed looking flustered and confused, a pretty blush spreading over his entire face from his cheeks, to his nose, all the way down to his neck, his hair in a state of beautiful disarray.  

Jongin curses to himself, biting his lip and averting his eyes elsewhere.

And if Kyungsoo notices the tanned boy’s sudden change in aura, if he notices the way his eyes couldn’t focus on one thing or the way his hands keep fiddling with themselves, he keeps quiet about it.

“Two truths one lie.” Jongin says, putting on his signature playful smirk, only this time it looks a bit something more than just playful “Ever heard of it?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s not too hard. Okay so here’s how it goes, we each give three statements, two of which are truths, and one being a lie.”

At the mention of it, a single truth pops into Kyungsoo’s mind instantly. Could this be his chance?

“All that’s left to do is for the other to guess which among the statements is the lie. Simple, right?”

“And what happens if the other guesses wrong?”

There’s a glint in Jongin’s eyes that lasts for no more than a second, and with the smirk that’s still frozen on his face he takes a breath, eyes now intensely focused “A garment comes off.”

Kyungsoo blinks, bewildered. “A…garment?”

“For every wrong guess something comes off. Beanie, shirt, pants, shoes, socks, anything.”

The more the baker stares, the more he realizes that Jongin is serious. He’s dead serious. “A-and what do I get if I win?”

“Your call. What do you want?”

“What do I want?”

“Name your prize.”

Kyungsoo takes a minute or two to think, face scrunching up and gaze dropping to the floor.

Actually, there isn’t much to think about, it’s much too obvious that he has one wish in mind, one wish that makes his fists clench and his palms sweat, one wish that he’s been far too afraid to act on.

“Okay” he finally speaks up, determination in his eyes and the slightest trace of courage. “I have one.”

“I’m listening.”

“If I win…If I win, you get to listen to what I have to say. You- you have to listen to everything. You have to let me finish. You-“ he takes a breath “You have to promise to understand. Okay?”

Jongin’s playful expression falters for a moment and it’s replaced by one of confusion. He blinks several times, trying to catch up with all the conditions Kyungsoo’s just laid out in front of him “That’s a lot of … circumstances.”

”something you want to tell me?”

The baker’s eyes are wide and expressionless as he realizes that his dreaded moment is slow approaching. Swallowing, Kyungsoo gives all his energy into flashing a smile, praying that his voice doesn’t quiver as he speaks “Yeah, yeah there is...so you gonna let me win now?”

Jongin snorts at the seemingly joking comment, easily brushing it off (much to Kyungsoo’s relief) “Fat chance.” The taller teases, tilting his head to one side and grinning.

“What’s your prize?”

Jongin narrows his eyes in observance, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he watches Kyungsoo intently. Somewhere in the room Jjangu emits a soft whine while Monggu scurries inside, twirling in place before comfortably laying on his stomach. Within that short span of minutes the tanned boy grows serious, leaving no trace of his smile.

“If I win.” He begins, completely somber. There's a second of hesitation that goes by before he gathers the courage to just let it out there in the open. 

“.”

Crickets.

“If I win, I want to have with you.”

Kyungsoo thinks he can hear crickets.

Crickets that go on for only around one or two seconds, before their sound is replaced by his own boisterous laugh.

He keeps laughing, on and on until he’s clutching his stomach, until his eyes water around the corners, and until it comes to his attention that he’s laughing alone.

 Alone?

Through squinted eyes he peeks over to Jongin and despite the obvious ridicule in his sudden outburst, Jongin’s expression remains stoic, as though to emphasize that he is, in absolutely no way, joking.

Upon realizing this Kyungsoo’s laugh gradually fades, squinted eyes going wide and mouth falling agape.

“Really?” is the best he could muster out after he’s managed to process the entire situation.

Really?

“I’ll go first?” Jongin responds nonchalantly, already thinking up of his statements. Obviously he isn’t changing his mind anytime soon and it makes Kyungsoo shift uncomfortably in his seat.  He wonders what he fears more, his prize or Jongin’s? To tell the truth that may or may not bring an end to his picture perfect relationship, or to give in to something that he (admittedly) wants and to dig a deeper hole for him to climb out of? Screw your relationship up or screw yourself up? At times like these, he wishes he had at least one other choice to get him by. 

Unfortunately, he's long accepted that life rarely ever lets things go the way he wants them to. He exhales a shaky breath. Somehow this doesn’t feel like a simple game anymore.

“Kay I got one.”

Jongin straightens his posture once at once and Kyungsoo gives his 101% attention.

His first options are as listed below,

1.Jongin once auditioned for an entertainment company.

2.Jongin specializes in Ballet, Popping, Hip-hop, and Jazz dance styles.

3.Jongin once ran away from home.

Kyungsoo answers, with several question marks at the end of his sentence.

The leer on Jongin’s face however, has him shutting his eyes and slowly lowering his head to his knee, hiding his face in his hands. Defeat.

“Right sock off.” The tanned boy all too happily remarks, and what else is there to do but oblige. 

It’s a long night ahead.

***

Breezy.

In a word, it feels rather breezy for both Kyungsoo and Jongin at the moment.

Currently the smaller is at an obvious advantage, considering the fact that he’s a more closed off person, personal information being something he rarely gives out to just anyone resulting to the blurred lines between his lies and his truths. Jongin, on the other hand, is practically an open book so it’s doesn’t come as a surprise that the only thing he manages to keep on are his boxers, and even then it’s only thanks to Kyungsoo’s mercy, the baker having allowed him to put on his beanie minutes after he’s gotten another wrong answer causing him his anklet.

Jongin finds it strange that Kyungsoo discards his pants for the next guess he gets wrong, naturally he’d have expected the shirt to go first, but either way he’s not complaining. He’s far for complaining.  

It's close to the end of the game and now two hearts beat in a rapid pace, both for very different reasons.

One out of fear, Another out of…thoughts. Thoughts brought about by the sight of milky white thighs and blushing cheeks.

So far Kyungsoo’s making good progress, he only needs to trick Jongin into getting one more statement wrong and he’d get his way with things for the rest of the night (unless Jongin bizarrely wears something underneath his boxers) . It’s definitely not something he looks forward too, and the more minutes go by the more he clutches the hem of his shirt like some sort of lifeline, swallowing the bile threatening to rise up his throat at the thought that this could be it, he could win and it’s suddenly going to be judgment day.

He is nervous, yes, but the thing is, fear isn’t the only feeling that’s ing with him right now. It would be the biggest lie to say that seeing Jongin one garment away from being stark doesn’t, even the slightest bit, make the butterflies in his stomach go rampage. It confuses him greatly, feeling his hands tremble yet at the same time knowing that his entire face is probably pink with embarrassment. It’s as though even his body couldn’t decide which emotion to manifest.  

Still, he couldn’t help himself when he lets his eyes travel down south of Jongin’s toned body, taking in his broad shoulders, visible collarbone, sun-kissed skin, and unmistakable line. Kyungsoo’s cheeks heat up the second he catches himself ogling the hair running down his navel, having subconsciously skimmed his gaze lower and lower and lower-

 “okay, so it’s 2-1 lives left.”

Jongin’s voice brings him back to reality, or rather, it snaps his gaze away from places it shouldn’t be wandering off to. It’s quite noticeable how, throughout the game, the tanned boy’s grown a little too serious and maybe just a little too resolute on winning. Maybe he’s not the only one with a mission to complete.

“ I gotta think of a good one don’t I…” said boy mutters crossing his arms over his bare chest, effectively distracting the smaller.

Kyungsoo spends a hefty amount of time openly staring while the other takes the extra minutes to think.

It isn’t too long before Jongin is clapping his hands in finality and carefully laying out his statements with extended pauses in between. They are as follows:

1.“2 ex-girlfriends and 1 ex-boyfriend.”

2. “Used to be obsessed with Michael Jackson.”

3. “I have a birth mark just above my left shoulder blade”

The baker glues his eyes to the floor in concentration.

An x-ray to Kyungsoo’s thoughts:

1.“2 ex-girlfriends and 1 ex-boyfriend.”

He has one ex that’s for sure, so three couldn’t be far from the truth

2.“Used to be obsessed with Michael Jackson.”

Anyone who’s passionate about dancing probably would have been at some point

3.“I have a birth mark just above my left shoulder blade”

Did he? Left shoulder blade…Left shoulder blade… he should have looked

30 seconds into thinking:

1.“2 ex-girlfriends and 1 ex-boyfriend.” Seems likely?

2. “Used to be obsessed with Michael Jackson.” Truth. As far as I’m concerned it’s the best candidate for a truth.

3. “I have a birth mark just above my left shoulder blade” Please turn around Jongin, Please turn around.

50 seconds into thinking, at this point, there’s a smug expression growing on Jongin’s face and Kyungsoo hardly notices when he takes a few steps closer.

1.“2 ex-girlfriends and 1 ex-boyfriend.” Truth. I hope.

2. “Used to be obsessed with Michael Jackson.” Truth.

3. “I have a birth mark just above my left shoulder blade” Lie. It has to be.

By 60 seconds or exactly a minute into thinking, Kyungsoo’s ready to give his answer. The smaller swallows his surprise by their sudden closeness in proximity, and takes a stuttered breath before passing on his verdict. “Third statement’s a lie. I never saw any birthmark.”

Please please please-

Jongin raises his brows and purses his lips together while nodding his head slowly in acknowledgement, a good sign for Kyungsoo, who, by the way, will feel absolutely no relief in winning.

Jongin is still centimeters away from him when he inhales a breath. They’re so close he gets a whiff of the tanned boy’s scent, and without his clothes on he smells less like a hospital room and more like luxury, Ralph Lauren, Dolce & Gabbana, Jean Paul, or some other fancy brand like that (and perhaps a little bit of dog in there too, but minor detail). It’s nice Kyungsoo thinks. It suits him, it smells like large modern houses and expensive cars and extravagant living. Jongin smells like a dream.  

It takes a while before Kyungsoo looks up, surprised to see the other’s lidded eyes on him with the faintest trace of a smirk displayed on his lips. He’s definitely a dream.

“You’re good.” The taller comments in light and teasing manner “But not good enough.”

Jongin turns around, reaching behind to point to an area right above his shoulder blade.       

“Cafe-au-lait” He says, looking over with a victorious grin “French for coffee with milk. It’s a pigmented birthmark. See? Right above my left shoulder blade.”

Kyungsoo stares at it, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding me.”

“It’s right there, I kid you not.”

“What was the lie then!”

“I only had one ex-girlfriend soo, the one I just told you.”

“One? You never dated anyone after that?”

“I went out with a few but I wouldn’t say I’ve gotten into serious relationships since then.

"I don't believe you."

"I'm saddened by the thought that you are accusing me of cheating."

"It's not that, just...seems impossible. I assume you used to be swarmed with hormonal teenage girls."

Jongin snorts at that "I fell in love with dancing around that time and I just didn’t have room for anything or anyone else.”

He pauses and thinks about this for a moment, repeating his own statement in his mind.

“…except you- you’re an exception.“

“Oh shut up.”

Kyungsoo’s fists clench tightly on the hem of his shirt, cheeks turning ten shades redder, feeling ten times hotter. He’s unable to look anywhere else but down at the floor, heart pounding in his chest badum badum badum badumbadumbadumbadum louder and louder upon the realization that…

He lost this one. Once he loses his shirt he’s down to his last lifeline, and he can’t lose. Or can he? Should he?

His resolve quavers, because this internal debate is still going on in his mind and endlessly messing with his god damn feelings. A deal is a deal, a truth must be told, with Jongin would be both heaven and hell for him. Heaven because he loves him. Hell because it’d only make him love him more.

And the stronger the love, the bigger, the harder, and the more painful the heartbreak. 

Lost in his own thoughts, Kyungsoo doesn’t realize when Jongin manages to grip onto the ends of his shirt.

Assuming it was solely for the purpose of rules being rules, he lifts his arms in an attempt to make the job easier for the taller male. But surprisingly Jongin doesn't lift an inch of it off of him, instead the taller leans down and breathes against his neck, the sudden intimancy causing Kyungsoo's eyes to close and his arms to fall forward, gripping lightly over broad shoulders. He gasps, his lips grazing over Jongin’s neck while said boy traces the tip of his nose over his jawline. For some reason the air is a hundred times heavier and both their breathing is ragged and labored, Jongin’s grip on the ends of Kyungsoo’s shirt is tight, as though he’s using all the energy within him not to completely rip it off.

They stay that way, expecting their hearts to calm down in a minute’s time, but it doesn’t. 

“Last chance.” Jongin speaks, softly, so softly Kyungsoo mistakes it as a voice in his head. “If I guess right, I’m going to take this damn shirt off of you, push you back on that bed, and make you mine forever.”

The baker  shudders, fingers curling and uncurling against the other’s chest. 

“You have 30 seconds.” His whisper is warm against his ear. Kyungsoo closes his eyes once Jongin begins planting butterfly kisses up his neck, a whimper unintentionally slipping from his mouth. He struggles to think, but how could he, really? How could he think of how to finally say what he came here to say when Jongin is making it harder and harder to resist his prize?  

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. This isn’t right. Jongin needs to know. Jongin deserves to know.

With a trembling voice he tries his luck, blurring the lines between lies and truths completely. It’s not going to be hard, coming up with three more statements. His entire life is made of fabrications, lies and truths woven together to construct this image of a good young baker who lives with his brother, hard-working, kind, ordinary. How hard could it be to pluck three out of the bundle?

His throat constricts in an effort to choke down a sob, Jongin mistakes it as a hitch of breath which he can only take as a sign that his ministrations are affecting the smaller in the way he wants them to. He’s not entirely wrong.

Before the tanned boy can even remind him of the time Kyungsoo his lips and begins in a soft whisper. 

“One,” he says, and badump badump his heart goes. “I- I can wake the dead.”

At this Jongin hums and Kyungsoo can practically see him smiling as he tugs the collar of his shirt just a little lower down his shoulder. It’s definitely not the reaction he wants but he keeps going nonetheless.

“T-two, I-” deep breaths, roaming hands, wet kisses, and purple marks “I- M-my own brother lied to me.”

Pause, continue, abrupt stop.

The kisses abruptly stop, and Jongin is pulling back ever so slightly.

Kyungsoo still couldn’t see his face but with the way a rough hand is currently squeezing his hip he can tell that the other is most likely concerned, though his concern is a statement too late, Kyungsoo would like to think.   

“Three…” Jongin finally pulls back enough to meet gazes with his lover. Both their eyes fixate on each other and both seem to try and convey a love that cannot be expressed through words. It blinds Jongin from seeing the glint of fear.

“…My mother died of depression. My father died in a car accident.”

When Kyungsoo finally finishes they stare at each other.

Jongin’s one hand trails down to fiddle with the hem of Kyungsoo’s shirt once more, the other coming up to tilt the baker’s chin as he leans closer, lips ghosting over lips. His eyes are already closed when he mutters his answer, his lips grazing over Kyungsoo’s with every word he utters.

“One.” Comes the expected number, and in no more than a second after, Kyungsoo’s shirt is thrown somewhere onto the ground, the bed cushioning his fall once the sheer force of Jongin’s kiss has him falling backwards.

It all happens so fast, in the next minute the tanned boy is on top of him, shutting him up with kiss after kiss after kiss, each one deeper, each one sloppier. When Jongin’s hands slide down his thighs and push them apart to fit himself perfectly in between, Kyungsoo couldn’t help but gasp, allowing the other the opportunity to slip his tongue in and explore his wet cavern. And through the haze of the moment Kyungsoo lets out a sound, but what he expects should be a moan of pleasure, a sigh of arousal, comes out as a whimper. His cheeks suddenly feel wet, his hands are trembling when they grip on the band of Jongin’s boxers, tugging them lower without much conviction.

Jongin stops the moment he tastes salty tears and feels the tip of his nose get slightly damp. He’s panting when he pulls back, eyes searching and lost, there’s a crease on his forehead that only seems to deepen the minute he realizes Kyungsoo is crying, struggling for air and chocking on his own sobs that gradually grow louder and louder. Jongin pulls back even further till his arms are outstretched, hands on either side of the baker’s head giving him a beautiful view of Kyungsoo lying beneath him, of his pale chest and his red cheeks, even the few tears that are caught in his eyelashes and the small trail of snot running down his philtrum. He looks down to where Kyungsoo half-heartedly pulls at his boxers, the boy not even looking at his own actions and merely yanking fruitlessly at the garment nonstop.

On any other occasion Jongin would probably feel rather thrilled at the other’s enthusiasm, but right now it’s definitely not Kyungsoo’s desire that’s driving him to do this so he places his hand gently over the smaller’s and tries to stop him. He pulls it away but Kyungsoo simply refuses, finding purchase once more on the band of his undergarent and returning to his failed attempts of taking it off.

“Soo, soo, stop-“ The tanned boy whispers in a gentle tone, holding his lover by the wrists and pulling his hands to his bare chest.

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter baby?” his words are punctured by sweet pecks to the back of Kyungsoo’s quivering hands, which only seems to make the boy cry harder.

Unable to speak through his hiccups and sobs, Kyungsoo shakes his head repeatedly until he finds his voice again.

“Truth.”

Opening his eyes, he looks up at Jongin and instantly feels like he’s drowning with the tears that blur his vision.

“Truth. One is a truth.”

Jongin returns his stare. “What?” He says, wearing an unsure smile, ready to burst out laughing the minute Kyungsoo stops kidding around. Unfortunately, always unfortunately, he's not. 

The baker shakes his head again, “Jongin, my father never died in a car accident. And there are no papers showing my mother was ever diagnosed with depression.”  

His words suspend in the air. The boy above him chuckles, expecting to break into a guffaw not too soon after but when his quiet laughter is only met with the silence of the room occassionally interrupted by Kyungsoo’s hiccups, his smile completely disappears.  He continues to look down, eyes widening with disbelief.

“Jongin you lost.” Kyungsoo says, and when Jongin flinches upon feeling cold fingers against his cheek, nearly jumping off the bed as he makes quick move to stand up in utter astonishment, Kyungsoo feels like crying even harder. He couldn’t help but think that it’s happening. It’s happening, and the look of ridicule in Jongin’s eyes is no longer going to be just a nightmare.

“Wait. Wait you can’t be serious.” Jongin’s voice breaks at the end because one second his senses are going overdrive with pleasure and then the next all he could seem to think is What the is going on-

“Please listen to me-“ Kyungsoo begins to plead, cursing himself for hoping even just the tiniest bit that the other would take it in well upon his first try. Wishful thinking was what it was.

“Is Krystal in on this?”

The suggestion has Kyungsoo stuttering, wondering how to express both yes and no in a single response. "You don’t understand, It's not like that!” is the best he manages, though he doubts it's an answer that would clear anything out. In fact it only seems to lead the taller further on into making such assumptions, his tone changing significantly, a hint of disappointment and maybe a little anger. 

“Is she playing some kind of trick on you? Did she bribe you into saying such things?” Jongin squints his eyes, shakng his head as though the act was something he would never have imagined Krystal to be able to do. Kyungsoo wasn't going there anymore though, he wasn't planning on ruining any more friendships. Causing any more deaths. 

“Look please I need you to just listen-“

“She told you to say this didn't she? She told you?“ 

"Listen!"

"I thought I told her to drop it god krys-" 

“JONGIN! I won and you promised, you promised you would listen!”

Somewhere in the room Mongu barks, rustled awake by the sudden outburst of voices in the room that was once peaceful enough to lul him to sleep. 

It always shocks the tanned boy whenever he witnesses Kyungsoo raise his voice over something. Shocks him in a way that he feels stunned, frozen on his spot just to take a moment and register the fact that this side of his lover exists. 

Last time he’s witnessed it was during his previous visit, when Kyungsoo and Seungsoo seemed to have gotten into a fight of some sorts.  Seeing the smaller boy shout is, still, no less bizarre to him. And it never fails to shut him up.     

“Jongin I can wake the ing dead!”

Kyungsoo exclaims, and Jongin doesn’t even have the time to respond before a plethora of explanations are suddenly spilling from his mouth, his thoughts coming in the form of incoherent phrases, touch, life, permanent death, my fault, always alone. None of his practiced speeches prove to be useful, hours of stressing over how and what to say and sleepless nights of conjuring up this moment in his head don't seem to be doing him any good, because right now his mind is disconected from his mouth and he barely registers the things he begins talking about. 

“When I touch something dead it comes back to life. When I touch it again it dies permanently. For everything I touch a similar life form within close proximity dies as a form of balance. Jongin my mother got into a car crash trying to save me all because I chased this god damn ball across the street. She was bleeding so bad and I touched her Jongin, I touched her. I had no idea back then I swear. Dad wasn’t far away. Dad was found dead in his car 2 ing minutes away from our house’s driveway.”

“Krystal-“

“-was telling the truth. The entire time. About the body farm, the corpse, everything. And I’m sorry I- I didn’t say anything- I’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. It's just you were so nice to me, You were so perfect and I didn't want you to stop looking at me like you looked at everyone else, I was so ing scared Jongin. I still am.”

Silence. 

Something changes in the way Jongin looks at him and he knows this kind of reaction all too well.

That familiar way Jongin’s brows would furrow, the hesitation present in the way he would open and close his mouth as though he were trying to pick the right words to say. It’s definitely not a foreign sight to Kyungsoo, definitely something he’s dealt with many times before. They would always give him the same look, the same length of pause, the same uncertainty, and the same restless feeling in his heart while he would just wait for some kind of sign of acceptance or rejection. To the few people he's attemtped to reveal it to it would often be the latter, and often he wouldn't care as much.

But with Jongin it would just be too hard to act indifferent. Indifferent over the fact that even the kindest person could still shun you from society like the rest. 

 “Show me.” The taller says to break the quiet. His fists are clenched, hes jaws are hinged, and for the first time, for the first time his eyes are unable to meet Kyungsoo’s. “Show me proof.”

At this the smaller boy thinks quick, crossing out the possibility of an actual demonstration since, knowing his own circumstances, he surely wouldn't be keeping something dead anywhere near his own house. He rattles his mind for something and it's only then that his memory brings him back to one of his most treasured days.

“Our first kiss.”

Jongin’s expression remains unchanging. “The park?”

“Yes. At the park.There was a tear on my glove...I had to grab on to something when I tripped…I had to block your sight, Jongin, I had to. Otherwise you’d see an entire god damn tree come back to life.”

“That’s not proof. I opened my eyes and the tree was-“

“Dead? Yes, The tree was dead Jongin. And it’s still dead, dead in the heart of spring.”

Jongin is silent again, and Kyungsoo looks down. He looks down because he’s sure that it’s going to be there again, the look. The look society gives to peopl with missing body parts, with terminal illnesses, with abnormalities.

“Second touch permanently kills. If you don't believe me, you can go see it for yourself.”

He’s whispering, all the energy having drained out of him. He’s not even crying anymore because there are just no more tears left. His eyes hurt, his body hurts, his heart hurts. He’s shutting down.

“My mom kissed me goodnight after dad died. I learned the effect of my second touch that same night.”

Jongin's hand flies over his mouth at a sudden thought that crosses his mind, an idea that sparks out of two wires finally connecting,

“...You mean to say you killed your parents?”

No one’s ever said it that way before. The baker thinks.

The mention of his parents triggers a clear image of his past that overlaps with his present vision, and he finds himself staring at his father's body, head thumped against the streeting wheel and arms dangling by his sides. Then sprawled on the floor there's mom, the clean stitches over her neck a visible reminder of her disruptead death as she lies on this little boy's bedroom floor looking like she were merely asleep. Somewhere between it all stood Jongin, eyes wide with his hand over his mouth. Put them all together and it formed the perfect picture of everything that's ever haunted Kyungsoo's cursed life.

Tonight he feels like a monster,

He feels like he doesn't belong anywhere, now more than ever before. 

“I’m sorry Jongin. I’m so sorry.”

***

Blur.

Mute.

Fast forward.

The happenings that unfold afterwards quickly and silently go by in a blur.  

Somewhere in the background Jongin is throwing on his discarded clothing, somewhere in the background footsteps echo through the wooden floors of Kyungsoo’s home, tiny paws padding along after and fading softly away as the sound of a door opening and closing tells him he won’t be hearing them anymore. Through the window we can see that outside Jongin is briskly walking down the sidewalk, getting smaller and smaller the further he gets, heaving puffs of cold air as the two dogs cradled in his arms whine and at the tears that he subconsciously sheds, creating wet streaks over his cheeks that he's too panicked to even wipe off.

Meanwhile Kyungsoo crawls under his blankets, forgetting his clothing, forgetting the scattered cards on the floor and the beanie Jongin had left by his bedside table. There are no more tears and there are no more sounds, not even that of unsteady beating of his heart. Only the feeling is present, the constant thumping against his chest. The world is a silent move and he stares at the window for hours. He closes his eyes and imagines climbing up a mountain, where the brightest stars can be seen.

Alone.

When he opens his eyes, the skies are crying and there’s not a star in sight.  

A/N: